


ad aeternum

by wichahpi



Series: Elate Week 2016 [5]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8340481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wichahpi/pseuds/wichahpi
Summary: She’s the ghost haunting her own home, and she doesn’t know what to do because everyone she loves is gone.





	

Everyone tells them that what happened was just a freak accident, a fluke of nature. That there was nothing that could’ve been done to change the outcome, and it wasn't anyone’s fault. That two people who had never shied away from a challenge together, who had always seemed to defy and beat the odds, couldn’t have done a damn thing when it mattered the most.

It doesn’t give them much comfort. Because, one morning, their daughter woke up for the last time.

The hallways of their home are quiet and empty; each room feels lifeless and cold, despite the warm ocean breeze that billows the curtains. It feels like –

Well. If a house could feel sorrow.

Elena Fisher sits in a cocoon of blankets on the floor, the only illumination in the entire house coming from the screen of her laptop as she breathes through the constant, aching maw of pain that feels like it's carved a gaping hole in her chest. She stares blankly at the screen, turning a thousand moments over in her head. She only hesitates for a moment before playing the video she has pulled up, swallowing thickly as her own voice echoes in the silence of the house.

“ _We’re here with famed archaeologist, Cassandra Drake_ – “ 

“ _Fisher-Drake, mom._ ” Cassie corrects from in front of the camera, absently adjusting her glasses. “ _I’m gonna be_ Fisher _-Drake, remember?_ ”

“ _Right, sorry_.”  Elena can hear the smile in her own voice before she slips right back into business mode. “ _We’re here with famed archaeologist, Cassandra Fisher-Drake, and we’re about to witness one of the greatest discoveries of our time. Isn’t that right, Doctor Fisher-Drake?”_

“ _That is correct_.” Cassie’s face takes on a look mock seriousness as she takes a few step backwards, sweeping her arm out to the side. “ _What we have here, is what looks to be an ancient post-war defeat ritual of middle-aged fathers.”_  

The camera swings down to focus on Nate, who lies face down on the couch, his snoring muffled by a pillow. Cassie crouches down beside him, pulling out a pen and a notebook as she surveys her sleeping father. She hums exaggeratedly a few times, makes a few scribbles in her notebook, before nodding to herself in affirmation.

“ _It’s as I thought. The quinquagenarian male drools into the pillow and snores quite loudly, complacent in his utter defeat at the hands of women.”_

 _I heard that.”_ Nate mumbles into his pillow. “ _And I’m just conserving energy before making my impressive comeback.”_

 _"Whatever helps you sleep at night, pops.”_ Cassie pats his shoulder condescendingly. “ _We won’t tell the adoring press that you can’t beat even your preteen daughter at a thirty year old video game.”_

Vicky keeps whining and pawing at Cassie’s door, but Elena can’t even bring herself to set foot in it. She’s the ghost haunting her own home, and she doesn’t know what to do because everyone she loves is _gone_.

But she does have Vicky, at least. The companion Sully had gifted to Cassie, to protect and comfort her whenever her parents were away, was now comforting _her_ as she mourned her daughter.

“Hey, Vicky girl.” Elena beckons quietly. The dog leaps up and her tail starts thumping at the familiar nickname, but immediately droops when she realizes it wasn’t her person who’d spoken.

“I know you miss her. I miss her too.” Elena says quietly, watching the dog slowly pad over to her and lay down beside her. The lab puts her head in Elena’s lap, and she scratches gently behind her ears. “I miss her so much.”

In the days _after_ , she quickly found that whenever she played videos of Cassie, Vicky would always stop whatever she was doing and gravitate towards her. It was jarring, even after the first few times – when Vicky bounded into the room like she was a puppy again, her golden tail wagging and her ears perked up, and it almost hurt too much to see Cassie’s forever loyal companion realize that her voice now existed only in captured memories.

Elena buries her face in the old dog’s neck, squeezing her eyes so tightly shut that spots dance behind her eyelids. “What are we gonna do, Vic?”

She falls asleep like that – on the floor with her daughter's dog, fingers clinging to her fur like a lifeline.

When she wakes, she begins the cycle again. Goes through all of the necessary motions; takes a shower, brushes her teeth, refills Vicky’s food and water bowls, chokes down some crackers and water. Carefully re-sticks the post-it notes that had fluttered off of the refrigerator door in the night. Curls up in a corner with a pile of blankets and her laptop, clicks play on another video.

“ _Mama, wake up!_ ” Her heart feels like it’s instantly being squeezed in a vice as she hears her daughter’s voice. “ _Look, mama! We want to show you something!_ ”

The camera work is a bit wobbly and the sound is occasionally muffled by a stray finger, and she knows it’s because Nate was indulging an eight year old Cassie’s desire to help him deliver the tray piled with food while trying to film the whole thing on his phone. “ _Not so fast, Cass_.” His voice is low and gentle, guiding Cassie as she gently set the tray down on the chest at the foot of the bed without spilling.

She watches herself sit up and stretch out a big theatrical yawn – as well intentioned as they had been, the constant giggling and pan-clattering from the kitchen had awoken her long before they’d been ready to present her with breakfast in bed. But she’d wanted to give Cassie her moment, and was never opposed to anything that let her stay snuggled warm in bed on a Sunday morning.

“ _What’s up, kiddo?_ ” Her own voice filters through the speakers.

“ _We made you breakfast!_ ” Cassie announces. _“Are you surprised?_ ”

“ _I’m_ very _surprised_.” Elena tells Cassie. “ _It looks delicious, did you make it yourself?”_

“ _Yep!_ ” Cassie giggles proudly. “ _And I did it all by myself. Well, except for the hot stuff. Daddy did those parts_.”

“ _Wow!_ ” Elena grins. “ _So, what’s the occasion?_ ”

Cassie turns to give the camera – and her father behind it – a mischievous grin.

“ _Happy Mother’s Day!_ ” Cassie yells, launching herself onto the bed and flopping her body on top Elena’s chest. “ _You’re my favorite mama, ever.”_

 _“Thank you, my girl.”_ Elena tickles her sides. “ _And I better be your_ only _mama, ever.”_

“ _Only_ and _the bestest_.” Cassie declares. “ _But I’m really hungry, can we eat some French Toast now?”_

Elena watches her face light up with laughter, and she watches herself get almost uncomfortably close to the camera as Nate leans over her to kiss her gently.

“ _Happy Mother’s Day, honey_.” She can hear the grin in his voice, “ _Be careful with the bacon, it’s a little on the crispy side.”_

_“And by crispy, you mean burnt, right?”_

_“Hey, we got distracted.”_ Nate defends. “ _Miss Cassie Pants decided it was time to experiment and see which breakfast food Vicky likes best.”_

 _“And?”_ Elena asks expectantly.

“ _All of them_.” Nate sighs. “ _That dog will eat anything.”_

The video ends with Cassie demanding they give Vicky a piece of bacon. “ _We’ll hurt her feelings and maybe she won’t feel like part of the family if we’re all celebrating without her.”_ Cassie explains. “ _You’re Vicky’s mama too.”_

 _“Come here, Vicky girl!”_ Cassie beckons. _“See, now the whole family is together!”_

She almost laughs when she sees herself control of the camera, swinging it around to capture Nate’s affronted expression as he stares at Vicky sitting across the foot of the bed, stretching her long body to lay down right on top of Nate's feet.

“ _Go right ahead_.” Nate sighs. “ _Make yourself at home, fuzzball_.”

She can’t bear to watch any more, and she closes her laptop with a gentle click. Only to regret it a moment later, when the silence feels like a physical presence around her _._

The house was never quiet when they were in it. Not when there were bowling pins to set up in the hallway or board games to challenge each other to or new roller blades to try out by skating through the kitchen. The walls were always filled with some kind of noise, some kind of light.

She glances out the window. At least the weather seems to match her mood, finally. Dark, ominous clouds obscure all sunlight. Rain pounds and rattles the window panes, and wind makes the waves crash and foam angrily. Her eyes are swollen and everything feels _raw_ , and she wipes her eyes on the sleeve of one of Nate’s good shirts and she doesn’t even care that she’s getting tears and snot all over it. She glances at her phone even though she already knows there’s nothing to see. It’s not like Nate could’ve called or texted without her noticing – her phone was set to all of the loudest settings, and Nate had his own special ringtone.

She’d already signed out of all of her social media, after the notifications from well-meaning fans – and almost every person they’d ever come into contact with over the last decade and a half of D&F Fortunes – had overwhelmed her within _minutes_ of the news hitting the airwaves.

She appreciates their thoughts but right now –

Right now, she only wants to talk to one person.

Sully’s been calling several times a day for almost the last week, ever since Nate had left and she’d sat catatonically on the front porch until her eyes ached from the glare of the sun off the waves. She never answers him, but she knows how worried he is for her, for them, and sends him single word texts every day to let him know she’s still breathing.

 _Suffocating_. But still breathing.

She also knows he must have gone to look for him by now, probably could have even found him already.

And she gets it, on some level. She _does_. She’s never doubted how much love Nate had – _has_ – for Cassie, not from the moment he saw her little wrinkled face and he’d looked like he’d just been sucker punched in the gut. And she _knows_ how much he loves her. Knows it better than she knows almost anything else.

It’s just –

On the best of days, Nate still struggled with processing his emotions healthily. So it’s no surprise to her that _he_ loses it after they lose –

Well. _Knowing_ it isn’t the same as _accepting_ it, and it still doesn’t make surviving his absence any easier. What hurts her even more is that she knows he’s out there on his own, hurting just as much as she is.  

She clicks to play another video at random, staring hungrily at the screen as Cassie proudly rigs the sailboat by herself for the first time. She can’t hear what they’re saying – the volume’s lower on this one than it is on the rest and she’s just so _tired_ – but she almost knows the words by heart. Can practically _feel_ Cassie’s laughter vibrating in her bones as Nate falls overboard after Vicky barrels into his legs.

And she plays the next, a video of Cassie’s fourth birthday party. Her little girl sits at the kitchen table, bows stuck at different angles on her head as she tears off the paper of another present. She can’t actually remember  who filmed this one, but the camera zooms in on the tail end of them kissing and Cassie’s delighted face in the background.

“ _Again, again!_ ” Cassie giggles. “ _Again, mama!_ ”

Without taking her eyes from her screen, she hits speed dial to call her husband again, even though she doesn’t expect him to answer. It rings for several long moments before a cold, robotic voice informs her that she could leave a message after the tone.

“Hey, Nate.” Elena manages a wobbly smile that she doesn’t quite feel in the hollowness of her chest. She’s gotten Nate’s voicemail for the last week and she’s probably left him over fifty messages, but he must be either listening to them, or at least _deleting_ them, because his inbox is never full. “It’s me.”

“I just – “ She chokes on a sob. “I just need you to come _home_.”

She wipes her face with the heel of her shirt-covered hand. “Ca – “ She inhales sharply and stumbles over her name, throat closing up in grief. “She would want us to be together. To help each other through this. She – “

Elena has to stop, take a fortifying breath before continuing. “She wouldn’t want us to be like this. _Please_ , Nate.” She knows she sounds wrecked, her voice raw and hoarse from crying and her entire body just plain exhausted from the fitful sleeps she’d barely managed to make herself succumb to.

“Please, just come home.” Elena begs quietly. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

She hesitantly hangs up the phone, feeling more defeated than before. It’s not healthy, she knows. To push everyone away, to be a  ghost that wanders the empty hallways and relives every moment, every memory that they hold. But it’s better than the alternative.

When she sleeps, she dreams of Cassie.

The first time she ever saw her face, scrunched up and an angry pink as Nate placed her tiny body on her chest. The feeling of her small hand in hers as they walked on the beach together. The sound of her laughter, the high pitched giggle-squeals she mourned when she finally grew out of them. She can still place every freckle scattered across her nose and cheekbones, knows the exact hues of her irises and can see her face happy and alive in her memory.

But when she wakes up, reality hits her like a tidal wave, and everything is upside down and _wrong_ and it feels like every pain receptor in her body has flared to life.

She remembers resting her trembling hand on Cassie’s chest, still and quiet. Studying the long shadows of her eyelashes, her freckles standing out starkly on her pale, bluish cheeks. She can feel the empty chill of her skin, the utter _silence_ of her that had ripped into her heart more explosively than any grenade ever could.

She remembers sobbing into Nate’s chest, clinging to his shirt in fistfuls as the reality of it all sunk in. She couldn’t even imagine burying her vibrant, brilliant, beautiful daughter in the cold ground somewhere.  Not when they’d always be so far away from her. And Cassie hated being confined to small spaces. Hated being cooped up indoors, even when she was just a toddler, nose pressed to a window and eager to explore the world. Confining her body to a box for the rest of time – it was unthinkable.

The idea of cremation didn’t sound any more appealing, but when she realizes she wants to give some of her ashes to the sea, where Cassie had always declared she’d gladly spend all of her days if given the change, the decision is made. But she can’t fathom doing it without Nate by her side, and he leaves before they get the chance.

There’s a small amount of _Cassie_ in the delicate sand dollar necklace that sits just above her heart. She’s comforted knowing that Nate has his own, too, wherever he is in the world. That Cassie is still with him, even though he’s not with her.

Her grief was all-encompassing; she was drowning, and she wasn’t sure she could resurface on her own. But she refuses to let it own her. She goes grocery shopping, and if the cashier gives her a sympathetic look, she doesn’t acknowledge it with more than a sharp nod and quick smile. She does the laundry, even if she nearly heaves at the sight of Cassie’s bathing suit hanging over the edge of the sink. She washes the sheets and makes their bed, carefully avoiding thinking about Cassie’s messy room behind the door at the end of the hall.

She paints, abstract watercolors she can’t quite make sense of when she looks at them later. She carefully opens and closes Cassie’s baby box a dozen times before letting herself look at the contents. Lets her fingers trail over that first curl of golden brown hair. Smiles wistfully at the tiny, inky footprints immortalized forever on cardstock. Touches the soft green had she’d worn her first day on earth. Lets out a sob at the pair of tiny hiking boots, gifted to the little girl who was bound to see the world.

She feels like she can’t breathe and she holds herself under the water of the bathtub for as long as she can, gasping for air when she resurfaces. She knows a therapist would probably have a field day with her right now, but she can’t bring herself to care, lets herself drift off to sleep as the bubbles dissipate and the warmth seeps out of the water.

Which is where her husband finds her when he returns home hours later, almost exactly a week after he’d left.

Nate quietly approaches the bathtub in relative darkness – the sun is just starting to peek out over the horizon, the beginning of a new day.

Her eyes remain closed, her head tilted back to rest against the curved edge of the claw foot tub that had damn near sold her on the house before they’d even seen the price. But her face isn’t a picture of bliss and relaxation, and the water is icy to the touch when he dips his fingers in.

He doesn’t even bother to roll his sleeves up as he leans over the edge and scoops her out of the water.

Her eyes fly open. “Nate – “ She chokes out, flailing for a split second before settling into his arms. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light starting to drift through the windows, and her eyes flit to his face and she touches his cheek like she can’t believe he’s really there. She takes a breath that turns into a full-fledged sob. “Nate, you –“

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, hefting her slight weight into his arms, water cascading down from her body and soaking his clothes. He pauses by the door to grab a towel off the shelf and sets her on unsteady legs to drape it around her before scooping her back up. “You’re freezing; let me get you warmed up. Let me just take care of you.”

She doesn't have the energy to do anything but squeeze her eyes shot and nod,

He lays her down on their bed and gently dries her off, supporting her back as he helps her sit up. He helps guide her heavy limbs into one of his old shirts and she manages to wiggle into a pair of soft cotton pants. She slides under the covers on her own, watching quietly as Nate strips off his wet clothes, tugging on a pair of clean pajama pants and hesitating for a moment before scrounging up a t-shirt to wear.

“Don’t bother.” Elena says softly. “Please, just – “

He drops it with a nod and only pauses for a moment before climbing into bed with her, eyes darting around her face as he tries to gauge what might be going on inside of her head.

“Please forgive me.” He finally whispers, and she turns her body in towards his, burying her face in his chest. “I can’t lose you, either.”

“I’m right here.” She whimpers against his skin. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

It doesn’t sound like an accusation; rather an admission of defeat.

“I know.” He still flinches a bit, his fingers flexing against her anxiously. “I know. And I’m so sorry. _Shit_. I just, I thought – “

She knows what he thought. He thought that he'd failed her, failed their daughter. That she might resent him, somehow, for being unable to save their little girl from the water she'd loved so much, the water that had claimed her before they were ready to ever let her go.

“Just don’t leave again, okay?” She begs quietly, her voice small and unsure. “Please?”

“I won’t. I won’t, I swear to God.” He promises vehemently. “I never should’ve – “

She shakes her head at him. “Don’t. I’m just really, really tired.” She whispers hoarsely. “We can talk later. But, right now, can we just – can we sleep?”

“Whatever you need.” Nate vows quietly. “We’ll do it together.”

Elena just presses her cheek against his chest, listens to his heart beat steady and strong.

 


End file.
